


Right Before My Eyes (I Can Taste)

by j_gabrielle



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Light D/s, M/M, Porn, Semi-Public Sex, mild dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Chris leans over, mouth latching on to the soft skin of his nape, sucking hard to bruise. Scott sobs, nails bloodless white where they scratch on the railing. Day old stubble rasp on his over sensitised skin, and he is sure that there will be red rashes that will be hard to hide."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Before My Eyes (I Can Taste)

**Author's Note:**

> Title courtesy of Two Door Cinema Club 'What You Know'
> 
>  
> 
> My first Teen Wolf fic. Be kind alright?

The glare of the afternoon sun glinting off the ocean is almost unbearable. Humidity and heat settles on his naked form like a second skin, and he can feel the warm trickle of their mixed spent trailing down between his spread thighs, half-hard cock twitching where it dangles.

In his mind’s eye, he can see him reclining back on the deck chair; gold-rimmed aviators hiding his icy blue eyes, one hand curling around his tumbler of whiskey on the rocks as he savours the scenery. Two fingers of Jack Daniels with two cubes like clear icebergs in a sea of smoky brown. Scott can still feel the phantom burn in the back of his throat from the last time the man had fed him some, the liquor being passed between them in a kiss.

(He’d choked, gagging, and the man had merely laughed, chasing away the after taste)

“Did I say you can move?” Chris’ voice is a soft rumble against the rush of the waves on the beach below. Scott digs his fingers into the grain of the wood, tensing. He imagines that he must be a sight to anyone who might happen to look up from their little fishing boats. Scott feels his chest constrict.

“Sorry.” He murmurs, blushing and bowing his head.

A warm breeze tickles the leaves of the coconut tree just off the balcony. It is an almost relief, and he relaxes only to jump at the feeling of cold fingers cupping his balls.

Scott gasps, muscle tightening. “Chris!” He cries, torn between flinching from the contact and leaning into the feel of his cotton shirt.

“Hush.” He hears from behind him. He is trembling, throbbing below. Desperate for any touch, any contact. “You look so beautiful. I should keep you this way all the time, hmm? Spread out with come dripping between your thighs. You’d like that won’t you?”

Chris leans over, mouth latching on to the soft skin of his nape, sucking hard to bruise. Scott sobs, nails bloodless white where they scratch on the railing. Day old stubble rasp on his over sensitised skin, and he is sure that there will be red rashes that will be hard to hide.

“You can touch me.”

The words give him a sigh of relief, hands quickly moving to reach for Chris. Scott arches his back, pressing his ass into the line of Chris’ pants covered hard on. The bastard chuckles, low, smoky, dark. With his free hand, he snakes it around his torso, splaying his palm over Scott’s navel.

“Please…” Scott begs for nothing and everything. “Please, Chris?”

One hand scratching the hair on the back of the older man’s neck, the other hand gripping the wrist of the hand on his torso; he feels like he is fraying apart at the seams and yet so very at peace at the same time. The hand on his balls moves further back, and he feels a thumb pressing against his winking hole.

“What do you need?” Chris asks, pressing kisses to his jaw, the side of his head. “Huh? Tell me. C’mon Scott, you can do that can’t you?”

“I-I need… you. I need you in me. I n-need you to fuck me…” Scott manages, groaning as he humps the thigh between his legs. Instinctively, he shifts himself until he is pressed forward on the railing with Chris draped over his back. “Please?” He whines.

Scott knows the picture he makes in that moment. Knows it from all the times he had spied himself in the tall dresser mirror propped up beside their bed at home. He arches his back a little more, jutting his ass towards Chris and hears the sharp intake of breath. Hiding his private amusement at his success, he moans softly, reaching back to spread his ass, to give Chris a clear sight of what he wants him to do.

Looking back, he bites down on his bottom lip, releasing it slowly, capturing Chris’ eyes still shielded behind his stupid aviators. “Please?” He breathes.

The slap on his left butt cheek is unexpected, and he shouts involuntarily at the contact. But it leaves a throbbing sting that has his cock hardening again in delicious ways. He mentally makes a note to get Chris to do it to him more often.

The thought is quickly forgotten when Chris moves away, and he makes a disapproving sound at the loss of contact. “I’ll be back.” He is soothed with a quick kiss to the line of his shoulder.

Scott huffs impatiently, straightening his legs. Distantly, he hears the sound of a drawer opening and closing.

“I’m still slick from before.” He complains as he feels the presence behind him. Fingers digging into his ass, he forces his ass further out. The gesture sends a thrill of anticipation up his spine, and he feels decidedly lewd although they have done things far more debauched than this. “Chris…”

“So bossy.” Chris grunts, sliding two-lube slick fingers into his hole. His voice is soft and almost fond, “I don’t want to hurt you. At least… not in this way.”

Chris does not spend too long fingering him (Thank God, Scott thinks) and soon he is sliding his cock into him slowly inch by inch. Scott wonders if it is weird that he wishes he were eloquent enough to write verses upon verses dedicated to Chris’ cock. It’s not the biggest, porn-worthy cock, but it is thick and fills him up to the brim. It satisfies him in so many different ways that using toys had never done, always feeling so very alive regardless of whether it was in his mouth or his ass.

Scott sighs, smiling dopily in relief despite himself. Chris does not let him adjust to the feeling of being filled again. Pulling back and thrusting in brutally, he places his hands over the bruising he had left on Scott’s hips.

The pace is quick, harsh. Punishing as Chris pulls him by the hips until he is shaking with need once more, tip-toeing and desperate for purchase. Scott leans forward, burying his head in the cradle of his arms, gasping with every burying of his cock in him.

Chris’ breaths are uneven, uncontrolled and it still the feeling of euphoria whenever he unravels has not become unexciting to Scott. The knowledge that _he_ is the one that makes this clever, stoic, impossibly beautiful man unravel propels him further to the edge.

“Babe…” He hears groaned, “Scott… Baby… I think…”

Reaching back, he pulls Chris forward to rest his head on his shoulder, hands scraping up to grip at his breasts. Tilting his head, Scott gently capture Chris’ lips in a kiss, nipping, sighing when all Chris is reduced to doing is roll his hips lazily against his ass.

Scott swallows his cries as he floods his channel with his cum, drowns himself in the sensation of his ass not being able to hold that much spent in it. He can feel the soft scratch of Chris’ denim on the back of his thighs and wonders how are they going to explain to their laundry lady back home. Half of their clothes on this trip is cum-stained and ruined beyond compare.

Maybe he’ll convince Chris that they need to update their wardrobe.

As it were, he lets him ride out the aftershocks. Soon, Chris is hauling him backwards, manoeuvring their still-joined bodies back into the cool darkness of their room in the bungalow.

Pulling out, Chris throws him onto the bed, and Scott pushes himself onto his back. Grinning, he scoots to the middle of the bed as he watches Chris strip, slowly revealing his toned body. Scott knows how self-conscious the other man really is about the age gap between them, and has always enjoyed showing him just exactly how little he cares about the fine lines in the corners of his eyes, the salt and pepper in his hair. To show just how much he treasures each and every single one of this things instead.

Chris is still hard, and it is another thing that Scott loves so desperately about him; the man has the stamina of a twenty year-old.

His eyes track him as he moves to place the video camera they’d brought along on their little vacation (more to document their stay than for the purpose it has been subjected to) on the writing desk, angling it to the bed.

“We’re never going to show them those videos are we?” Scott giggles when Chris climbs into bed, sliding between his legs.

“Most definitely not.” Chris replies, smiling softly as he drags him closer to press their cocks together. “So, _husband_? Ready to make another sex tape?”

 

 

 

[end.]


End file.
